Where the Truth Lies Review

October 18, 2005 2:07 PM
by [email]

The year is 1959, and Lanny (Kevin Bacon) and Vince (Colin Firth) are at the height of their flash-in-the-pan popularity. Leading a telethon in a bubblegum bright TV studio, the duo enchants millions of viewers with their comedic antics and upbeat singing. But the tune changes rather quickly- back in their posh hotel suite, a beautiful young girl lies dead.

Only a director as original as Atom Egoyan would begin the year’s most controversial film with a scene resembling American Bandstand. Egoyan, who exercised subtlety in his first novel adaptation, “The Sweet Hereafter,” takes Rupert Holmes’ “Where the Truth Lies” almost over the top with equally impressive results.

Melodramatic music (by Mychael Danna) is employed, though not in excess, and the sex that has made “Truth” such a talked about commodity is far from gratuitous. The bulk of the film is set in the risqué 1970’s, so maybe members of the MPAA were disturbed that the centerpiece ménage a trios takes place in the squeaky clean 1950’s.

Fifteen years after the discovery of Maureen O’Flaugherty (Rachel Blanchard)’s lifeless body in the New Jersey hotel suite of entertainment legends Lanny Morris and Vince Collins, Karen O’Connor (Alison Lohman) is determined to crack the unsolved crime. A young journalist on the verge of a breakthrough, Karen is willing– eager, really- to get close enough to Lanny and Vince to determine who killed Maureen, and why.

After Karen ropes Vince into a million dollar book deal- he’ll answer any question that she wants to ask- she’s sent the first chapters of Lanny’s tell-all autobiography, intended to deter her from writing a competing book. It only whets her interest.

While researching “In Cold Blood” Truman Capote learned that fraternizing with murder suspects had its drawbacks; this is a lesson Lohman’s girl wonder is about to figure out the hard way. On a flight to New York, Karen manages to convince Lanny that she’s a 2nd grade teacher living in tiny Manhattan apartment. Resulting intimacies with Lanny- and, later, with Vince- raise even more questions. Why does Vince prefer obscurity? Why does Lanny hate lobster so much?

As the film switches back and forth between the 50’s (Lanny’s point-of-view) and the 70’s (Karen’s), some confusion muddles the suspense, but all is clear by the time the credits roles. The flashback portions of the story, glossily captured by Paul Sarossy’s cinematography, has the delirious advantage of unreliable narrative- like Karen, you never know just who to trust.

Lohman really grows up in this role, which finally allows her to show both sensitive precocity and sex appeal (there’s one lesbian coupling American audiences may have to wait for the DVD to see). This scene, strangely, has not received the notoriety of the Lanny, Vince, and Maureen threesome.

A labyrinth of a film that feels long but is never dull, “Where the Truth Lies” marks Egoyan’s foray into distinct genre filmmaking, and it’s a remarkable debut. His other films- “The Sweet Hereafter” and “Exotica” just to name a few- have won awards galore, and while this has a different tone, it’s equally as good.

Egoyan’s impressive reputation has allowed him access to a top drawer cast: Bacon and Firth have remarkable chemistry as has-been performers with soiled pasts, Maury Chaykin is deliciously greasy as a mobster, and David Hayman is perfectly cast as Lanny’s butler, Reuben, who quietly emerges as a pivotal character.

“Where the Truth Lies” is a thriller on the surface, but it’s also a pointed commentary on America’s obsession with celebrity culture. So while the film is set in two distinct time periods, the major theme is relatively timeless. In Egoyan’s Hollywood- as in the real one- anyone is capable of anything.

Note: Though the MPAA unfairly slapped this film with an NC-17 (while allowing gore fests to make their way to theaters with unscathing R’s, but I’ll get off my soap box), the content of this film is provocative in proportion with Holmes’ novel- no more, no less.

Grade: A
By Jenny S. Halper